Everybody Deserves to Feel Sexy

Everybody Deserves to Feel Sexy

It was late in our shift. The work was winding down. Everybody had gone on break except for me and Davis.

I walked over to Davis who was sitting at his computer wasting time going over stocks.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

Davis turned from his computer, making sure we were alone. Me and Davis have always been cool.

“Good,” he said. “I been waiting to ask you something.”

“Okay. What?”

“We’re both single guys. We both have needs.”

“Sure,” I said.

“I watch some pornography,” he said.

“Yeah. Not too shocking. Most guys in our situation do,” I said.

“But I limit it. I limit it to the normal stuff.”

“Good,” I said.

“You know, normal straight sex stuff. Fucking. Sucking. Nothing too weird.”

“That’s commendable,” I said. “What about kissing?”

“What do you mean?” Davis asked.

“You said fucking and sucking. What about kissing?”

“Yeah. Kissing’s okay too,” Davis said. “But I don’t go for the humiliation stuff. The torture stuff. Ass fucking. Gang bangs. Peeing on people. That stuff seems sorta depraved. I don’t go for anything that belittles or degrades women. Nothing that’s too freakish or kinky.”

“Well, to the extent pornography can be good, I suppose your choice of conservative pornography is good,” I said.

“But,” Davis added.

Our conversation had already taken an awkward and unexpectedly atypical turn. I figured whatever it was that was bugging Davis musta been really bugging him. I wondered if maybe he’d stumbled across something he shouldn’t like, just to realize he likes it. Or, even worse, in his wanderings around the bowels of the internet, maybe he’d stumbled across something illegal, and he was pegging me to be the guy to explain things when he stopped showing up at work.

“But?” I asked.

Davis explained, “I was watching this show the other night. A reality show where two professional wrestlers are married to twin female wrestlers.”

“Sounds enthralling. Sounds like Grade A entertainment.”

“It’s not Emmy material,” he said. “But I like it.”

“Those kinds of shows are like pissing in the punchbowl of your brain,” I said.

“Well, I like it,” Davis said. “Not all us have subscriptions to The Criterion Collection.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “So how’s this tie into pornography, Davis? And don’t go getting too weird on me. I don’t wanna hear about twin sex. And don’t tell me anything you wouldn’t want me having to repeat in court.”

“No,” Davis said. “It’s just that one of those female wrestlers on the show is pregnant.”

“Oh,” I said.

We were already ankle deep in some disturbing territory that I was afraid was about to get even more sordid.

“And the other wrestler was explaining to the pregnant one’s husband what it was like having sex with his wife when she was pregnant.”

“Awkward,” I said.

“Which one? The conversation? Or pregnancy sex?”

“All of it,” I said.

“He said there’s an obligation to have sex, even when she’s pregnant. He said she deserves to feel sexy and wanted, especially when she’s pregnant cause that’s when she’s vulnerable. And it’s the man’s duty to make her feel secure.”

“I guess so,” I said. “Makes sense.”

Davis looked around again to make sure we were still alone.

“So I got to thinking, I’ve always avoided the pregnancy porn just like I’ve avoided the bang bangs and pissing videos.”

“Good,” I said. “Pregnancy porn sounds disgusting. Just imagine the baby growing up to know it’s mom performed on camera with it in the womb. Shameful. Absolutely shameful. Disgusting. Stay away, Davis, please.”

“But everybody deserves to feel sexy, beautiful and wanted. Even the pregnant. That’s what the husband said. And it makes sense, right?”

“It might make sense, but no,” I insisted. “Nobody should want to see – for shit’s sake, it shouldn’t even exist – a woman carrying a child filmed doing those sorts of things. It’s horrid.”

“But what if prego porn is there to show guys like that wrestler that it’s okay? It’s okay to feel horny for a woman like that.”

“Like a primer?” I asked. “So all the other pregnant ladies might feel desired by their husbands after they get themselves primed and acclimated to it through pregnancy porn? This is your argument?”

“Yeah,” Davis declared with the excitement of finding a gold nugget. “Which would make it a good thing. Good for all those soon-to-be mothers needing to feel desired.”

“No,” I told Davis. “Just no. You are not an animal.”

“Okay,” Davis said, as quickly defeated as he’d just been elated. “This is why I’ve been waiting to talk to you. I value your advice.”

I noticed people coming back from break.

I stepped away from Davis, telling him I’d see him around.

“Yeah,” Davis said, turning back in his chair to review more stocks.

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